Sue Storm Tries To Destroy It

The waste chutes in the Baxter Building went to a molecular disassembler in the basement. When Sue Storm emerged from the bathroom, holding her swollen stomach, she eyed the skull of polished bone, which was exactly where she left it.

Sue Storm was 13 weeks pregnant, near the end of when she'd experienced morning sickness with Franklin and Valeria. But her stomach stuck out further than with either of them. She felt queasy, imagining how big Porkum's baby would be. What it would do to her figure.

How many times she would have to suck Reed's cock before he forgave her.

He was still in the room, watching her, as she picked it up and carried it to the nearest trash chute. Open, dump, close. She felt a strange sense of relief as it slid out of sight. Stupid tears ran down her face.

Not for him. Never for him. Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making her emotional, or the trauma of reliving that year in captivity—

—Reed caught his wife before she fell to her knees, his arms stretching out to catch and hold her, worried despite himself, the cold shell around his heart cracking for a moment as he thought of Sue and the baby. She cried into his shoulder and the cold, rational man of science tried to tell himself it was an act, that she had betrayed him, that—

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, holding onto him, her swollen stomach pressing into his body. Automatically, Reed curved protectively around her growing midsection.

"It's alright, Susan," he said. A part of him, the emotional core that Reed Richards rarely acknowledged and found so difficult to express, wanted him to say more. To forgive her. To tell her he still loved her. That it wasn't her fault.

"Fuck my ass," she said. "Please? I just...I need something to take my mind off of it."

Reed Richards took a deep breath. Maybe he retreated a little from that precipice of forgiveness. Maybe he was reminded of what an utter slut and whore his wife had become, that even now she couldn't restrain herself from making such a lewd request.

Yet he also didn't say no.

The door was locked. His arms found the lube. Sue was bent over the bed, pants and panties off, spreading her ass to show the swollen pink ring. Mister Fantastic pressed his stiff schlong against her back door and, on a sudden terrible whim, doubled its girth and length. Sue gasped as the swollen, rubbery helmet pushed past her once pert and virginal sphincter.

The pregnant heroine moaned like a whore.

Reed Richard's personal anal slut.

In the basement, Porkum's skull lay atop a heap of kitchen refuse. The remains of breakfast and lunch. Used kleenex. Burnt underwear. A chair that had not been properly reinforced for Ben Grimm's weight.

At midnight, the disassembler powered up. All around the skull, matter was reduced to component atoms. They swirled in a cloud around the skull, which stubbornly refused to dissolve into its constituent elements. The molecular disassembler increased its power, and the glowing cloud grew brighter. The mass swirled around the skull, and then, as the device reached its limits, it shut down.

The dust swirled around the skull, which floated in mid-air, and began to assume the outline of a humanoid shape.